


A Little Love

by BlueDarknessIceHeart



Series: Fictober 2019 [8]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Developing Relationship, F/M, Guardian was part of D1, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Shadowkeep, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 23:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDarknessIceHeart/pseuds/BlueDarknessIceHeart
Summary: Fictober19 #8: "Can you stay?"The Drifter had never meant to wind up with the star guardian in his pocket, and he’d really never meant to wind up with you tucked under thin sheets and curled up in his bed on the derelict either.Set in/post Shadowkeep





	A Little Love

**Author's Note:**

> Goin' back to my roots with some reader-fic. This is also just. So soft compared to my usual.

You were special, as loathe as he was to admit it. 

He’d never really intended to get any closer to you than he did with the rest of the misfits that tumbled into his little corners and came back from Gambit matches dripping in ichor and motes. If he had to guess at how the two of you wound up how you were, it’d have started with the wide grin you came back with, the banter you rolled right back at him even with bullets flying and a prime evil roaring in the background. He’d figure it would go back to the fire he saw in your eyes after Cayde, how you didn’t recoil from the flames but dove into them headfirst - you weren’t soothed but you were satisfied in the end. 

He’d never really meant to wind up with the Vanguard’s star guardian wrapped around his finger, and he definitely never meant to wind up wrapped around yours in return. You’d worn the coin around your neck with a quiet pride when sides had to be picked. Your fireteam picked the Vanguard, and he hadn’t seen you with them very often since, especially not when you tore into Gambit now. He’d seen you counter pretty much everything they did, rooting through his shelves without ever answering a question he threw at you and crushed the bugs under your heel. 

You didn’t look at him any different after the Nine dragged you through some aspect of his life week after week, if anything you looked at him with more understanding and he could see it. He could feel it in the way you handled yourself around him, you’d always been confident but never truly at ease, never the first one to punch his shoulder for some snarky comment or the one to just lean against the railing and let your eyes close just for a moment. 

The Drifter had never meant to wind up with the star guardian in his pocket, and he’d really never meant to wind up with you tucked under thin sheets and curled up in his bed on the derelict either. 

He knew more than enough about the tragedies that riddled the moon the first time guardians had tried to go toe to toe with the hive on their own turf. He didn’t need to know about the new ones, knew a little too much already even before you’d told him you’d be gone for a while. That you might not come back this time, like you’d done before. You’d seen the winding paths under the moon before; had torn through Phogoth, Crota, Omnigul, Oryx alike and yet you still held that shred of fear in your ribcage, that this might be the last time just like every other time you’d set out against the hive. He might’ve nosed around things he shouldn’t have, a bit better at getting into files and recordings than anyone would really give him credit for. 

You’d had the dead thrown back in your face, nose rubbed in every trauma and tragedy you’d never opened your mouth about. You had tumbled into the annex shaking and still covered in gore and wounds of your own, and he didn’t even think about it, about the few lingering guardians that were watching when he hooked an arm around your waist and the two of you flickered out of view and into the derelict. He’d picked you up and carried you through the ship before setting you down, rummaging through boxes and papers to find a towel to run over your face and hands, frowning at the painfully dark circles under your eyes. 

“Damn, kid, what’d they do to ya?” 

You didn’t like when he frowned, one of the hands he’d just cleaned lifting and pressing against his cheek, thumb pulling the side of his mouth up.

“Y’look better when ya smile.” 

You could feel the soft exhale of breath over your hand, Drifter moving your hand away and shifting you to have you standing leaned against him. He was familiar with your armor, buttons and buckles coming undone to leave you in the thing shirt and shorts you wore under your armor. He was practically moving you like a doll, your exhaustion making moving yourself a little too difficult, your body heavy and ready to tip back over the second he let you go. 

Drifter settled you back down, pulled the sheets up over you, and watched you curl up. The wounds on you would be healed up in no time once your ghost had the energy itself to fix you up, but it didn’t keep him from carefully wrapping a little bit of spare gauze around the worst looking ones. Seeing you so small, so bruised and bloodied and out of it was pulling at something in his chest he very much didn’t want to name. 

He’d never seen fear in your eyes like that, bright and unleashed, he’d never seen your eyes so darkly rimmed or so wide. His hand brushed absently over your head, smoothing hair back and away from your face. You’d almost looked afraid of life in the moment you’d torn into his space, like you were scared of never seeing his ugly mug again. 

The thought had him snorting a laugh, pulling away to stand only for clumsy fingers to hook around his wrist. Everything about you was curled in on itself, trying to hide under his sheets and away from what had happened, that even your voice came out like something trying not to be noticed. 

“Can you stay?” 

The silence was heavy as the two of you simply looked at each other, you saw the wariness in him and he saw the little glimmer of hope in you. He knew first hand how much being alone in the aftermath could hurt, could dig the knife in a little deeper. 

“Alright, (y/n), but don’t go _talkin’_ about it.” 

Your fingers left his wrist to let him deal with his armor; gauntlets, shoulders, and duster being placed into their respective places, kicking his boots off before turning back to you. He sighed, scooped you up along with the sheets, and settled down on the side of the bed closest to the wall. 

It didn’t take very long for you to wind up curled against him instead of in on yourself, and the more you stayed still the easier it was to feel the little rubs of thumbs against your lower back from the arm hooked around your waist. 

“I think I get it now, what you mean when you say some dark things can’t be defeated without using a little dark.” 

Your voice was muffled against his chest, and the movement against your skin paused, lifting your head just enough to look at him. 

“Don’t go thinkin’ about any of that right now, think about it when you’re back in one piece.” 

The little circles picked back up, and you settled your head back against his chest with a soft sigh. The warmth coming off of him made closing your eyes almost too easy, the soft rumble of his humming that started up eventually lulling you to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say Hi on tumblr!](https://bluedarknesswriteheart.tumblr.com/)   



End file.
